


tame wild bones

by myrmidryad



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Grantaire gets pretty drunk at one point so, M/M, Piningjolras, kinda I guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:14:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrmidryad/pseuds/myrmidryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“<i>Leave us alone!</i>” Enjolras recoiled in shock as Seph shrieked at them, fur on end and teeth bared. “Why can’t you ever leave us alone? Why do you pretend you care when we know you don’t give a shit! Why can’t you just leave us be?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	tame wild bones

Zariah landed on his shoulder, talons digging in for grip. It was a familiar stab – Enjolras barely noticed any pain. “Grantaire’s bad this evening,” his daemon murmured in his ear. “Look.”

Enjolras glanced over at the table Grantaire had taken and sighed. He’d taken the smallest one, meaning he didn’t want company, and there were already a few beer bottles lined neatly along the top of it. “Wonderful. Maybe he’ll do us the courtesy of keeping quiet tonight.”

Zariah snorted. “And maybe fish will fly.”

“Flying fish –”

“Don’t fly.” Zariah nipped his ear gently. “They glide.”

“Penguins swim.”

“I don’t think that was the point I was making.” Zariah sighed and ruffled his feathers, giving up the pretence that they didn’t care. “Shall I ask Laraina to keep an eye on him?”

“We can’t ask Courfeyrac to babysit him every time he gets moody,” Enjolras muttered. “You do it.”

Zariah fluffed his feathers up a little more. “People are going to notice if we keep looking out for him like this. And besides, I thought we wanted to be on top form tonight?”

“Just glance over at him every now and then.” Enjolras would do it himself, but he didn’t want to be too obvious. Bad enough that he was so drawn to Grantaire: he didn’t want to broadcast the fact. That would just be inviting teasing from all corners, probably including from Grantaire himself.

“He’s fighting with Seph again.”

Enjolras looked over. Grantaire’s cat daemon was on the table, talking to him with her tail lashing back and forth. Grantaire’s expression twisted and he shoved her sideways onto the floor, reaching for his drink. She jumped up onto the windowsill behind him and hissed, ears flat against her skull.

Zariah shifted a little closer to his head, and Enjolras turned his face to brush against soft feathers. He never fought with Zariah like that. He didn’t know anyone who fought with their daemon the way Grantaire did with Seph. He didn’t understand how he could bear to – she was a beautiful daemon, with long, soft-looking fur and pale green eyes. Enjolras had spent an embarrassingly long time sneaking looks at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to find all the shades of brown and black and grey and ginger in her coat. It was ridiculous – he’d never obsessed over another person’s daemon like this before. It was probably creepy. It was definitely not something to admit to.

“Keep an eye on him,” he muttered, and this time Zariah didn’t object. Enjolras lifted his wrist for him to step onto and lifted him up to the perch above his head. From there, Zariah had a perfect view of the whole room, and he was close enough to just drop down onto Enjolras’ shoulder if there was something he wanted to tell him. Birds of prey like red kites made for impressive looking daemons, but they were mostly just impractical, too big to be easily carried with a range too short to fly without difficulty.

The meeting went well for a couple of hours. Combeferre and Feuilly were missing, studying and working respectively, but they got on without them. Cosette and Éponine had brought some statistics on racial discrimination in queer youth programs, and Jehan had managed to unearth a memo which included plans to cut funding to several shelters across France. Bahorel arrived late, but he’d come from the Café Lautrec, and brought news of René (who’d been mugged and badly beaten the week before).

“Full recovery expected,” Bahorel declared, his spangled kookaburra daemon fluttering excitedly overhead. “Out of hospital tomorrow, if all goes well.”

So everyone was cheerful as the meeting ended and they all started talking about off-topic things. It was warm almost to the point of stifling, the room full of laughter and loud conversation, and Enjolras sat down below Zariah’s perch and let his mind drift a little. Times like this were often the high points of his week. There was nothing he liked more than knowing his friends were around him, knowing they had made progress and that they were enjoying themselves.

So when Grantaire got in an argument with Jehan and Courfeyrac, it was like a heavy stone had been dropped into a tranquil pond. Enjolras didn’t even hear what they were arguing about – Laraina was growling and Seph was spitting and hissing too loudly for that. Only Jehan’s Nadée was silent, more down to her quiet snake form than anything else, Enjolras suspected.

Zariah fell onto his shoulder, making Enjolras list sideways for a second before he adjusted to the weight. “Grantaire started it,” he said flatly.

“As usual.” Enjolras sighed, hesitating. Part of him wanted to ask Grantaire to leave, but he could never eject someone like that, as if it was his right to decide who could stay. But Grantaire was so _irritating_ sometimes. The one dissenting voice, an endless source of bitterness and unasked for sarcasm. And yes, Enjolras knew that Grantaire was a more accurate representation of the people they frequently went up against, but he preferred it when the meetings had a pleasant atmosphere. And Grantaire…Grantaire was not always conducive to that.

But Enjolras didn’t want him to leave. Despite the occasional aggravation of his presence, he preferred it when Grantaire was there. He just didn’t really know how to tell Grantaire that, so he kept back and didn’t say anything.

Grantaire finally got to his feet and stalked out, Seph running at his heels. Jehan stood up as well, Nadée circling his neck in agitation. “We should go after him.”

Because Grantaire always needed someone to take care of him when he was like this. There were more bottles on the table now than Enjolras cared to count, but he stood up and got his coat. “I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?” Courfeyrac asked.

“I needed to go soon anyway.” Zariah hopped onto the back of his chair as he pulled his coat on, and when Enjolras offered his wrist, he grabbed hold and let Enjolras transfer him back up to his shoulder. “See you later.”

“Be patient,” Jehan called after him, and Enjolras snorted.

“We’ll certainly need that.”

Zariah dug his claws in a little harder than necessary, and Enjolras winced. “Was that necessary?” he muttered as they left.

“There was no need to be cruel,” Zariah said curtly, and Enjolras knew he was right.

Grantaire was nowhere to be seen outside, and Zariah leapt into the air to get a better look. He couldn’t fly more than six feet or so above Enjolras, but it made them feel better. In the end, it was the sound of retching that told them where Grantaire was. Zariah flew ahead to the alley where the Corinthe and the restaurant next door stored their bins and called out, “They’re here!”

Grantaire was kneeling on the ground, still coughing and spitting, and Seph darted back and forth between him and the mouth of the alley, clearly telling Enjolras to keep a distance. Her gait was unsteady, and she stumbled on every turn.

Seeing Grantaire hunched over and in pain while Seph tripped over her own paws made something lurch unpleasantly in Enjolras’ stomach. Zariah landed on his shoulder again, pressing close to the side of his head. Grantaire heaved, and Seph staggered back to his side, mewling in distress.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras took a couple of steps forward. “Are you…are you alright? Do you want me to call someone? Or help you get somewhere?”

“No.” Grantaire’s voice was hoarse, and this close, Enjolras could see his shoulders trembling slightly.

“You shouldn’t be on your own like this,” he pressed. “It’s cold, you –”

“ _Leave us alone!_ ” Enjolras recoiled in shock as Seph shrieked at them, fur on end and teeth bared. “Why can’t you ever leave us alone? Why do you pretend you care when we know you don’t give a shit! Why can’t you just leave us be?”

“Seph –” Grantaire croaked, turning and reaching for her. She evaded his grasp and spat at Enjolras, tail standing straight up.

“Get out! Leave us alone! Just let us die here!”

Zariah let out a whistling cry of protest and Enjolras was at Grantaire’s side almost before he realised he’d moved, Seph’s words twisting in him like blades. Zariah hopped off his shoulder to try and placate Seph, and Enjolras wrapped an arm around Grantaire, feeling him go stiff in the embrace.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he declared, pulling Grantaire against him. “And I don’t pretend I care.”

“Liar!” Seph snarled. Grantaire made a wounded noise and leaned into Enjolras.

“Don’t, Seph.”

“No one cares!” Seph went on, and Grantaire started to cry. “No one wants us! Who can blame them? We don’t deserve it, we’re no good, we don’t like ourselves, we don’t even like each other. And you hate us! We’ve seen the way you look at us! We’re nothing but a distraction, we just mess things up like we did tonight, like we always do, and you hate us for it!”

Enjolras could barely breathe, every word making him hold on tighter to Grantaire, and it was a relief when Zariah made another fluting call and rushed into Seph, bowling her over and spreading his wings over her body.

“We care!” he insisted, pressing his beak to her fur. “We do, Seph –”

Enjolras turned away and concentrated on Grantaire, who was still crying. He didn’t know where Grantaire lived, and he didn’t want to just deposit him there and abandon him, so he pressed a kiss to Grantaire’s hair and pulled his phone out of his pocket to call a taxi.

Seph and Zariah were having a whispered conversation Enjolras couldn’t catch a word of, so while they waited for the taxi to get there, he stroked Grantaire’s hair and kept holding him close.

“But you don’t like us,” Grantaire whispered, sobs subsiding. “You don’t like us.”

“We do, actually.” Enjolras hugged him.

Grantaire made a noise of denial and jerked away to retch again. Enjolras breathed through his mouth and held Grantaire’s hair back from his face, rubbing his back when he was done. The taxi arrived soon after that, and Enjolras and Zariah helped Grantaire and Seph into the back.

“Where are we?” Grantaire asked when they arrived.

“My place,” Enjolras told him, paying and thanking the driver. “Come on, I’m only one floor up.”

It was still a struggle to get Grantaire up there – he was bulky and limp, and Zariah couldn’t do more with Seph than urge her forward. But they made it eventually, and Enjolras made him wash his mouth out and got him into bed with no mishaps. He and Zariah watched as Grantaire reached out for Seph and she jumped unsteadily into his arms, curling up against his chest and letting him hold her tightly, the way children cuddled their daemons.

“They look sad,” Enjolras murmured, and Zariah sighed.

“Enjoy the sofa, Enjolras.”

The sofa really wasn’t big enough for him to fit comfortably, but Grantaire needed the bed more. Enjolras left a large glass of water and a packet of painkillers on the bedside table in case Grantaire woke up before he did (unlikely, but just in case), and fell asleep with his ankles dangling over the edge of the armrest.

He did wake up first (with a horrible pain in his neck), and he moved around quietly in order not to disturb Grantaire and Seph. His apartment was open-plan, with the bathroom as the only separate room. His sleeping area was partially separated from the rest of the apartment by a large floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, through which the bed was clearly visible, so it was easy to keep an eye on Grantaire as the morning wore on.

He’d never put much stock in the way his apartment looked, but while Grantaire slept, he found himself cleaning up, rearranging things, staring at the walls as though he could make them more interesting through sheer force of will. Grantaire had never been to his apartment before, and Enjolras wanted him to like it. He wanted it to appeal enough that Grantaire wouldn’t leave as soon as he woke up. Maybe if his apartment looked less bland, Grantaire would stay a while. He could stay for breakfast, or lunch – Enjolras had food enough for both of them.

He tried to read, but couldn’t concentrate properly, reading the same sentences over and over without any of it sinking in. He tried sorting through the photos Bossuet had sent him of their last fundraising event, but couldn’t make his eyes focus for more than a few seconds at a time. He couldn’t even keep his attention on the documentary about graffiti he’d been meaning to watch for weeks (and when had he become interested in street art, anyway?). He was just so acutely aware of Grantaire sleeping in his bed only a few feet away.

It was Seph who woke up first, and Enjolras didn’t actually notice until a strange warmth bloomed in his chest. When he got up to look for Zariah – who was with Seph, though he didn’t know how he knew that – he found them next to the bed. Seph was purring, rubbing against Zariah’s chest with enough strength to push him over if he hadn’t been digging his talons into the rug. His feathers were puffed out slightly, the way they did when Enjolras scratched his head the way he liked, and his eyes were half-closed.

Enjolras backed away and went to the other side of the bed to sit down – there was a chair he dumped clothes on, and he couldn’t keep his knees from buckling a few times on the way over. He wanted to get into bed with Grantaire, who was still sleeping. He wanted to curl around him and hold him close and possibly kiss him a lot, and he wasn’t entirely sure when that had become such a priority, but he didn’t really care at the moment.

He couldn’t see Zariah and Seph from here, but he could feel an echo of Zariah’s content and pleasure. His limbs felt warm and heavy, and there was an overwhelming sense of everything being…alright. Like he could relax. As if there was nowhere to be, and nothing to do, and it was completely okay for him to just sit here and breathe deeply.

After a moment, Grantaire stirred, rolling over so his back was turned to Enjolras and stretching with a soft sound, reaching out to Seph with one hand. She didn’t come to him, and Enjolras struggled to keep his eyes open as Grantaire sat up, then looked around and found him. Enjolras could only meet his gaze for a second before he had to close his eyes. He was too relaxed to be confused, but it was still there under the surface.

“Where are we?” Grantaire croaked.

“My place.” Enjolras opened his eyes. “We didn’t want to leave you.” 

Grantaire shivered suddenly, glancing at whatever Zariah and Seph were doing and blushing, rubbing at his face. “We should go,” he muttered. “Sorry, for last night.”

“You can stay if you want,” Enjolras offered immediately. He heard Zariah say something to Seph, and they both laughed. Grantaire blushed deeper, and Enjolras was fairly certain his own face was a little warm, but he’d genuinely never cared less. “Are you feeling alright?”

Grantaire nodded, looking down. “I think I threw it all up.”

“Are you hungry? I have food…?” Their daemons laughed again, and Enjolras _knew_ he was blushing now, embarrassed at how eager he sounded. But to hell with it – he knew Grantaire couldn’t be averse to his attentions, if the way Seph was cuddling up to Zariah was any indication.

“I…” Grantaire looked at Seph and Zariah again, eyelids fluttering for a moment. “Um.”

“Yes,” Seph answered for him. “Please.”

Enjolras smiled and got up, offering Grantaire a hand. Grantaire stared at it before taking it, and Enjolras tightened his grip immediately, letting Grantaire pull to steady himself as he got out from under the duvet and stood up

Grantaire’s other hand touched his arm and he looked down, a small crease between his eyebrows. Enjolras didn’t want to move, scared he’d ruin things if he did, so Grantaire was the one to speak first. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I do.” Enjolras twisted his hand, sliding his fingers through Grantaire’s. “A lot.” His breath caught for a second as _something_ happened to Zariah, and Grantaire tightened his grip on his hand.

“But you…” Grantaire looked down and Enjolras leaned forward as if magnetically pulled, pressing his forehead against black curls. “I don’t…”

He wanted reasons, Enjolras realised. He wanted an explanation. Which he could try and give later, perhaps when his mind was clearer and not so fogged with Zariah’s pleasure and his own need. For now, that need was more pressing, and he reached up with his free hand to touch the line of Grantaire’s jaw. His stubble was sharp against the pads of Enjolras’ fingers, and he was so close he could see the pores on Grantaire’s skin. He could smell him too – stale alcohol from last night and the faint scent of his shampoo, something plain and soapy.

He’d never been so close to Grantaire before. Close enough to hear him breathing, to hear the movement of his throat as he swallowed. He curled his fingers, skimming the sides of his knuckles along bristles and tilting Grantaire’s face up into the perfect angle for Enjolras to arch his neck and press their lips together.

For three long, glorious seconds, it was bliss. Grantaire’s lips were so soft, and at Enjolras’ touch they parted just slightly to better fit them together, Enjolras’ bottom lip pressed above Grantaire’s, the barest prickle of stubble against his top lip where they overlapped. The side of Grantaire’s nose was pressed against his, and when Grantaire exhaled Enjolras could _feel_ it on his own skin and he wanted more –

But Grantaire stepped back, yanking his hand away and staring at Enjolras as if he’d just stabbed him in the back.

Something unpleasant rose in Enjolras’ throat; a physical ache. Had he misjudged this? Had he made a mistake? “Grantaire –”

“What was that?” The words rushed from Grantaire on an exhale, and suddenly Seph was leaping into his arms and Grantaire winced in pain as she dug her claws into his shoulder and hissed in his ear.

“What are you _doing?_ ”

“What are _you_ doing?” Grantaire asked, eyes still fixed on Enjolras. Eyes thin at the corners, forehead wrinkled, everything about his face and his posture screaming betrayal.

Enjolras’ lips parted, but for a horrible second his mind was completely blank. God, what _was_ he doing? What had he done?

“I didn’t mean to,” he blurted, and Grantaire’s expression fell even further. At his feet, Zariah tugged sharply on his trouser leg, and that feeling in his throat ignited again because how had he managed to ruin this so spectacularly? “Grantaire, R –”

“I’ll go, you don’t have to explain, I’ll leave,” Grantaire babbled, clinging to Seph so tight it had to be hurting her. Enjolras made a sound of protest at the same time as she hissed again and sank her teeth into Grantaire’s hand. He yelped and dropped her, anger flickering across his face, and as she landed on all fours Enjolras saw him pull one foot back to kick her and jumped forward to push him back.

“Don’t!”

Grantaire recoiled from his hands as if burned, and Enjolras stopped in place as the ache in his throat turned to a lump because Grantaire looked nothing short of horrified, and it was so clear now. He’d misread the situation, mistaken the actions of their daemons being friendly, and Grantaire hadn’t welcomed his advances and probably never wanted to see him again. He’d ruined everything.

“Sorry,” he whispered, pushing down the humiliating urge to cry. He could give into that when Grantaire was gone. Because Grantaire wanted to go (probably wished he’d never come here in the first place) and Enjolras was only getting in the way. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said again, shuffling back to clear the way for Grantaire to get past the bed and leave.

Grantaire was flushed red, and he kept his eyes cast down as he made to walk past Enjolras, but Seph was there again, twisting around his ankles and slowing him down. Enjolras reached out despite himself to grab Grantaire’s shoulder when he saw the lines around his eyes tighten in irritation. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “Don’t hurt her.”

“Why do you care?” It might have been a bitter retort, but the words came out sad and small and bewildered instead, Grantaire finally meeting his eyes again.

Zariah stepped in when Enjolras found himself speechless again, speaking up from the floor. “We want you to stay.”

Grantaire looked down at him, arms crossing to clutch at his elbows. (Enjolras had never thought arms could be beautiful before, but Grantaire’s were lovely.) “Why?” he whispered.

“You don’t have to.” Enjolras’ voice, now he’d regained it, was embarrassingly weak. “I didn’t mean to assume, I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that, I’m so sorry, I thought you…” Grantaire was looking at him again and Enjolras had to force himself to hold his gaze. “I thought…because you always…and Seph was…” He trailed off and closed his eyes, passing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. Obviously I made a mistake.”

“You didn’t!” Seph insisted, pressing her side against Grantaire’s leg and stretching her neck forward to touch her nose to Zariah’s beak.

“Shut up, Seph!” Grantaire pushed her sideways to break the contact, sounding appalled, and Enjolras grabbed his shoulder again almost by reflex

“Why do you keep hurting her?”

“You made a mistake, you said so.” Grantaire jerked away from him and stepped back into the main space of the apartment, shaking his head. “So I should go.”

“Wait.” Enjolras blinked, the mixed signals Grantaire and Seph were giving him clicking together in his head. “Wait –”

But Grantaire was babbling as he yanked his socks on, pulling on his jacket as he stuffed his toes into his shoes. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have been such an idiot last night, I didn’t mean to impose on you – you should’ve just left me. I would’ve been fine, we’ve made it home in worse states, haven’t we Seph? You shouldn’t have bothered; you’ve done too much already, so I’ll go and we can pretend it never happened. Unless you want me to pay you back somehow because I hogged your bed and I’m really sorry about that, I didn’t mean to –”

“ _Grantaire_.”

Grantaire fell silent as suddenly as if Enjolras controlled his voice. While he was still, Enjolras bent to let Zariah hop onto his wrist, transferring him to the back of the sofa as he walked over and stood in front of Grantaire again.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“What?” Grantaire’s voice jumped up a good two octaves and Enjolras’ heart leapt, because he didn’t sound scornful or angry, but nervous.

“I’d like to kiss you,” he pushed, drinking in the sight of Grantaire’s eyes widening. At their feet, Seph purred like an engine, and Zariah made a high-pitched warbling sound in response. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Grantaire’s mouth opened, but it took a second for him to speak. “But you said you made a mistake,” he choked out.

“I thought I was mistaken in thinking you wanted this too,” Enjolras explained. When Grantaire didn’t reply, just gaped at him, he took another step closer. “I want to kiss you. More than once,” he added, “as more than friends.” Maybe he was doing this in the wrong order. “Would you like to get breakfast with me?”

Grantaire made a strangled sound that, while not sounding like a ‘no’, definitely wasn’t a ‘yes’ either.

Oh god, if Enjolras had managed to misread this whole situation he might just have to change his name and flee the country. He could take a lot of things, but he’d never dealt well with embarrassment. His cheeks were already growing hot, and he looked down, resisting the urge to twist his fingers together.

“You don’t have to,” he muttered after a hideously long pause. “I just thought…I thought you might want to, but it’s fine if you don’t.”

“Are you asking me out?” Grantaire’s voice was too breathy to get a clear read on – it might have been eagerness or it might have been repulsion. Enjolras couldn’t bring himself to look up and search his face for clues.

“Yes,” he told Grantaire’s knees instead, because he was only one step away from spontaneously combusting out of mortification anyway, so why not?

“Really?” Grantaire’s voice trembled slightly, but Enjolras still couldn’t quite tell whether it was out of happiness or contempt.

“ _Yes_ , really,” he burst out, lifting his eyes to glare at Grantaire. “How many times do you want me to say it?” Christ, his face was probably hot enough to fry eggs on by now.

Grantaire’s bottom lip was clamped between his teeth, his eyes wide, and he looked nervous to the point of fear, but…he hadn’t told Enjolras he’d made a mistake, and as Enjolras watched he swayed forward slightly. Just a little, but it was there.

“I’m asking you out.” Enjolras tried to sound confident even as he clenched his fists to stop himself reaching out to Grantaire. “Please say yes or no.” _And end this misery_ , he added silently. He saw Grantaire take a deep breath before he nodded.

“Yes.” His voice cracked on the first attempt, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes.”

Enjolras started to smile, hardly daring to believe, taking half a step forward. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Grantaire whispered, and Enjolras closed the last space between them with a relieved sigh. Both his hands rose of their own volition, one sliding into Grantaire’s hair and the other spreading against the side of his neck, fingers bending to fit against the curve of it. He leaned in but stopped short of actually kissing Grantaire, pausing for just long enough to give him the opportunity to pull away.

Grantaire lifted his face instead, closing his eyes and kissing Enjolras, mouth opening almost immediately. The wet heat of his tongue against Enjolras’ sent sparks shooting up his spine, and when Grantaire wrapped both arms around him that heat flared and Enjolras _melted_.

Grantaire had kissed him, _was_ kissing him – was kissing him so well Enjolras’ toes were actually curling and he was holding back the urge to make embarrassing noises. One of Grantaire’s hands pressed between Enjolras’ shoulder blades and his other arm was heavy and solid around Enjolras’ waist. Enjolras moved his elbows outside the circle of Grantaire’s arms so he could shift forward and eliminate the last few inches between them, and suddenly he could feel Grantaire’s chest and stomach moving as he breathed, and it was _spectacular_.

He wasn’t sure how long they kissed for, but they ended up stumbling back to the bed and falling into it, and that was even better because it meant that their legs could tangle up and Enjolras could feel Grantaire’s full weight pinning him down, their hair mussed from each other’s fingers, lips swollen and wet. On the floor, Enjolras was distantly aware of Seph and Zariah grooming each other, cuddled up close. Zariah’s beak and claws running gently through fur; Seph’s tongue rough on his feathers.

“Are you sure?” Grantaire breathed a while later, when their mouths had finally begun to wander away from each other’s. Enjolras’ was currently exploring the hard line of Grantaire’s jaw, bristles burning his lips.

“Sure about what?” he murmured.

“This.” Grantaire sucked in a sharp breath when Enjolras kissed further down against softer skin. “This whole…ah…thing we’re doing right now.”

Enjolras pushed himself up on one elbow to look down at Grantaire, who was spread out below him with one arm around Enjolras’ waist, the other resting on the bed where it had been stroking through his hair a moment before. “You mean the thing where I asked you out?” Enjolras asked, making himself ask while he still had the nerve.

Grantaire blinked, swallowed, his arm around Enjolras tightening for just a second before he nodded. Enjolras smiled and leaned down to kiss him again, making a pleased sound when Grantaire’s hand came up to rest on the back of his neck. “I’m sure,” he said. “I’m definitely sure. I’ve been wanting to do this for ages.”

“Bullshit.”

“I would never lie to you.” Enjolras kissed him again, harder, and when Grantaire moaned he hummed in response. He could hear Seph purring from here, and everything felt golden, saturated with lazy pleasure. “Get breakfast with me,” he said, lips below Grantaire’s ear. Grantaire shivered, then nodded, breathing out unsteadily.

“Did you have anywhere in mind?”

“Not really,” Enjolras admitted, kissing a gentle line across Grantaire’s cheek, inching his way back towards those lips. “You know the best places for everything though?”

Grantaire smiled, awed for a moment before his expression softened, gazing up at Enjolras as though marvelling at his existence. “Yeah…I know a few places we could go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just had a vision of Grantaire with a cat daemon who screamed at a bumbling Enjolras to leave them alone and then this happened. Whoops?
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please consider [buying me a coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/A221HQ9) <3


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